Rite of Passage
by Scrawlers
Summary: Phoenix Wright survived falling from a burning bridge and getting hit by a car. Apollo survived a courtroom bombing. "Surviving near death experiences" seemed to be part of the job description at the Wright Anything Agency, and so it seemed only natural that it would eventually be Athena's turn. [Athena centric, some Justicykes at the end]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ace Attorney or any of its properties.

**Notes: **This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here.

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><p><strong>Rite of Passage<strong>

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><p>Athena awoke to the oppressive force of silence, punctuated every now and then by a far off, muffled shout.<p>

Her ears hurt. It wasn't the sharp, antagonistic pain that came from hearing noises that were too sudden and shrill for her ears to handle, but a dull ache, rooted deep in her inner ear, like something was pressing down. That was the silence, her mind reasoned. Silence could be good, but sometimes it was too strong, like being buried beneath an avalanche. She almost thought she could hear her own heartbeat, it was so quiet, and thought that jolted just enough fear through her to cause her to try and move.

That was a mistake. Pain arced up her chest and across her right shoulder, spiking into her neck. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Listening hurt, except for that one shout she could hear every now and again.

_"Athena! Athena!"_

Athena wondered if it was because of her sharp hearing or his loud voice that she could hear him, but the darkness and the pain pushed her under again, dragging her under unconsciousness with a faint smile on her lips.

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><p>She didn't know how much time had passed, but the next time she dragged herself back to awareness, her mind felt more clear, less sluggish.<p>

It was dark, and the taste in her mouth was bitter and dry, a grainy texture painted against her tongue and the back of her teeth. Her body still hurt—she felt her face contort into a wince when she breathed—but as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she could see that there was something above her, blocking her view. She lifted one arm up (not all the way; she had to bend her arm a little) and ran her fingers along the surface. It was rough, and bumpy; she could feel the outlines of individual pieces packed together, crammed into the space above her face in order to keep the light out.

Rocks, she realized. They were rocks. She was buried under rocks. Around her neck, Widget flared to life, the light from his monitor casting a small glow on the rocks above her.

_"Buried alive! Buried alive in a personal grave!" _he cried. Athena removed her hand from the rocks to gently stroke Widget, as if she could calm the little device by doing so—or at the very least, so she could calm herself.

"We'll be fine," she whispered, but the moment the words left her mouth she questioned the wisdom of speaking them. She didn't know how much air was down there. Wasting air by talking wouldn't help. _We'll be just fine . . . I'm Athena Cykes, after all, and I'm fine! _The words gave her strength—enough strength to calm herself enough to think, at least—and she considered her options.

Her legs were stretched out, meaning that there was at least space beyond her feet—space that she could potentially explore. While it was tempting to try and dig her way out, if she made a wrong move and the rocks crushed her, there would be no hope of salvation. As it stood, she was lucky enough that they didn't crush her completely to begin with—that they'd been caught on something, blocking her in but not smashing her to death.

_Lucky, lucky. _It bought her time, but it didn't solve her current predicament.

There was space beyond her feet, but after reaching out her arms to both sides, Athena found that there wasn't enough space for her to turn around. Cautiously, she stretched her arms back, on either side of her head, and found that there was just as much space in that direction as there was beyond her feet. Given that crawling blindly didn't sound too appealing, she slowly rolled over onto her stomach, and began to army crawl down the dark tunnel, tucking Widget into her shirt once she noticed that he was bumping against the hard ground.

It only took a minute or two before the pain mixed with the effort she was using to crawl and oozed fatigue through her body. Athena's limbs felt weak, her mind slipping in and out of sluggishness. A few times she had to stop, and raise one hand to smack lightly against her cheek (the first time she did this she accidentally got the cheek that already had a bleeding cut on it, and resolved to never hit that cheek again as long as she lived), the pain jolting her just enough to keep her awake and focused. She was fine—she was fine! But her body and lungs protested every movement, her mind screeching at her to rest even though she was sure she couldn't have been crawling that long. Once or twice, Widget tried to speak, commenting on how exhausting the crawling was or on how little air there seemed to be down there. But Athena ignored him, pressing onward, because "giving in" and "giving up" were two phrases whose existence Athena didn't wish to acknowledge.

Still, the process was grueling. Athena's fingers scraped against the hard earth as she dragged herself, clawing her way forward in an attempt to make faster progress than she did when she was propped up on her arms. The sound of her nails scratching against the rock bed helped ground her—helped give her a sound to ward off the silence beyond her own breathing, and gave her focus. If she focused on the sound—if she focused on _making _the sound, she could keep going forward. Periodically she stopped to lift a hand and touch the rocks above her, hoping to find a portion that wasn't loose rock, but instead mostly dirt. Dirt wouldn't hurt as bad if it fell on her, depending on how much there was. It gave her a better chance of survival than the rocks did.

It took her she didn't know how long, but finally, Athena found what she was looking for. There were still rocks above her, but as she ran her fingers along their edges, she found that these were smaller, packed in with more dirt than solid stone. She wedged her fingers in around the grooves of one of the smaller ones, the dirt clumping under her nails, and when she thought she had a good grasp on it, she braced herself and took a deep breath.

And then she pulled.

All at once the rocks and dirt came tumbling down. Athena shielded her face as best she could, her eyes squinted shut, and held her breath as the dirt and small rocks rained down. The collapse only lasted a few seconds; she cautiously took a breath and immediately began coughing and choking, her lungs fighting for air as her throat burned due to the dirt and dust that had found its way into her mouth. Widget was screaming something from his place tucked into her shirt, but though she could hear his voice, her panic made her unable to make out his words. The only upside was that her panic caused her adrenaline to surge; she forced her arms up, clawing and shoving through the rubble. As she worked, she braced her feet against the ground and pushed up as best she could, using every ounce of her upper body strength to break through the surface, to the open air. Her muscles ached and her lungs burned, but just as she thought she wasn't going to make it, she finally managed to punch through the rubble and extend her fingers toward the sky. With her hands free, she secured holds on two larger rocks to the side of the pile she was buried under, and used the grip she had on them to pull herself up. She gasped and coughed some more as her head finally broke the surface, the bright sunlight stinging her eyes, but the air feeling blessed and fresh against her face.

_"ATHENA!"_

With her chest now above the rock pile, Athena could see Apollo running hell-for-leather toward her across the ravine. As she pushed against the rocks with all her might and finally heaved herself out of the pile and onto her knees, he cleared a large rock in a single jump. And though he had still been a good distance away when she made it to her knees, somehow he was right in front of her as she made it to her feet, his arm ensnaring her waist as she stumbled forward.

"You . . . run fast," she said weakly, and furrowed her brow as she met his eyes. "Did Trucy . . . tel'port you?"

"Of course not," Apollo said, and while anyone else would have thought he was exasperated, she could hear the concern in his voice. She smiled. "I think you passed out for a second when I was on my way over here. Come on; we need to get you to a hospital." He removed his arm from the front of her waist only to loop his other arm around the back of it, holding her to his side. Athena shook her head.

"I can walk, Apollo," she said, and pulled out of his grasp. She stumbled again and lifted one hand to her head, which was suddenly throbbing with pain she hadn't noticed before. When she pulled her hand away, there was blood oozing from a cut on her forehead. "I can—" The ground was tilting oddly, but before she could get a closer examination of it Apollo caught her again, pulling her against his side once more.

"Easy, tiger. You can walk just fine, but you're hurt right now. There's nothing wrong with letting your partner help you, is there?" he asked. Athena reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, both to help steady herself, as well as get his attention as she turned to look at him.

"Apollo," she said. He held her gaze for a moment, but when she didn't seem inclined to continue, his voice adopted a hint of confusion.

"Yeah?"

"Apollo," she repeated, and then turned more so that she could put her other hand on his shoulder as well. His hand went to her hip as a result of the move. "Apollo. I'm . . . I'm Athena Cykes."

"I know," he said, and now she could detect amusement and mild alarm in his voice. "We've worked together for years now."

"I'm Athena Cykes," she repeated, and before he could voice another objection, she smiled and added, "and I'm fine."

Apollo bumped his forehead lightly against hers, their noses touching, and—despite the rock slide, despite her injuries, despite everything that had happened that day—his smile matched hers, the little laugh in his voice in perfect harmony with her own.


End file.
